bittersweet memories
by symphonies of you
Summary: "She grins and allows herself to bask in his promises of forever. She's always wanted a happy ending." Written for Secret Santa on the RSF Forum. ::One-shot::NextGen::RoseScorpius::


**Hello there. This is for Janeey (not-gonna-grow-up). Ily, NGBATwinny. **

**Written for Secret Santa on the RoseScorpius Fans Forum. Merry Christmas, STALKING!buddy.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. I never will. Maybe in my dreams, but not reality. ;)**

**Song: _Someone Like You by Adele_**

* * *

><p><strong><strong>-:-

_regrets and mistakes_

_they are memories made_

_who would have known how bittersweet this would taste_

-:-

**i. **

**september 1, 2017**

The bustling crowds of people swarm around King Cross Station. She's fretful yet soso_so _excited about (finally) going to Hogwarts after listening to her parents talk about its magnificence and all of the mad adventures they had with her uncle Harry. Rose is lost in her thoughts and vaguely hears her hot-headed father loudly state the name _Malfoy_ and ramble on about beating the boy in exams and such. She nods, pretending to listen to the half-hearted, amusing argument her parents are having over injustice and intolerance of pureblood families.

She smiles when her mum hugs her and tells her to write every single day and to do well in her studies, and she rolls her eyes at her father, who is still talking about the Malfoy boy and how she'd better not marry him or else her granddad would never forgive her.

Like she would ever want to marry someone. She's still much too young to think of such things.

**ii.**

**january 26, 2022**

She's giggling and blushing profusely at what Scor has just said. How he always manages to make her laugh and smile when she's thoroughly upset, she does not know. _It's the charm_, he says.

They're strolling outside by the Black Lake late at night, way past curfew. Flickering shadows of swaying trees dance in the soft moonlight, and it appears as if the stars are especially bright just for them tonight. The brilliance of the stars above never ceases to astound her; she's always wanted to stand out, to shine just as vibrantly as them.

"Are you sure you're okay? I'll hex that boy for you if you want," he offers as he's oddly protective of her.

She quietly mumbles that she's fine because she really _is_. Whenever she's around Scor, something on the inside of her seems to ignite, to glow. And her breath catches at how perfect he seems compared to her. She can't place that warm, tingly feeling that always spreads through her when he's talking to her. Rose can't help but feel self-conscious around him, become utterly enraged at girls that he carelessly flashes a lopsided grin at, feel shy and hesitant around him. All of this perplexity has begun lately ever since she's finally noticed that girls talk about how attractive her best friend is.

_She can't believe they used to dislike each other._

They suddenly stop walking. He's looking at her, staring at her with a rather intense look as if he's trying to memorise her face. She feels her lightly-freckled face burn even more at his gaze and looks at his wind-swept white-blonde hair and his stormy blue-grey eyes. Those eyes, _those captivating eyes_ hold so much emotion. One moment, they're a raging storm, and they're a calm sea in the next.

He leans in like he's about to kiss her. Her heart is pounding erratically at his proximity. She closes her eyes and waits for his lips to softly brush hers and when she hears the bushes behind her fiercely rustle. They jump and look anywhere but each other. She can still feel his breath lingering on her face. She can't believe that Scorpius Malfoy was about to kiss her; what would've happened if he did? What would've become of their friendship? She now knows their once-platonic relationship has now become awkward, resultant of their almost-kiss.

They walk back to their respective common rooms without talking, too afraid to discuss the confusion of it all.

**iii.**

**november 2, 2019**

Studiously poring over numerous books at once and writing her essay, she attempts to absorb every piece of information at one time. She always receives the best marks among all the students in her year, with Scorpius Malfoy coming in a close second of course, making her mum and dad exceedingly proud of her. And she needs to do the same this year too. Being wholly engrossed in the fascinating texts regarding marine botany for Herbology, she does not notice a Slytherin second year come up behind her, causing her to jump when he slammed his overwhelming stack of books next to hers.

"Hello Weasley. Getting started on the essay from Professor Longbottom due next week?" he greets with a smile, displaying no traces of his usual smirk or sneer.

Rose stares at him, startled at his unusual cordiality. She tentatively nods her head and gets back to furiously scribbling about the uses of Gillyweed and Tibetan turnip. He curiously studies her figure for a moment before returning to his work too. Sixty minutes later, she lays her quill on the table and rests her aching hand, pleased with her completion of the exhaustive essay. Then she takes note of Malfoy, who is still surprisingly there next to her. She frowns at this; he's never really bothered to approach her with a good intent before. He always made sure to taunt her about her relatives and her personality and her looks.

His grey eyes are moving back and forth over the words in their Herbology book, his quill in his hand is never ceasing its frenzied movement across his parchment, and perspiration has collected at his brow beneath his fringe of white blonde hair. Eventually, he peers up at her and a small crooked smile materialises onto her face when she looks away and blushes at being caught staring.

"I-I ought to go. Um, I'll s-see you around, Malfoy," she stutters, angry at herself for feeling oddly uncomfortable around him.

She gets up and places her books in her tattered book bag, ready to depart from the library back to the Ravenclaw tower when she feels a smooth hand touch hers.

"Wait for a minute, will you Weasley? I'm coming with you," he mumbles, gathering his books with him also and stuffing them in his book bag.

Raising an eyebrow, she waits for him to come with her. They walk in the corridors in discomfited silence, neither one not knowing what to say. Rose's completely perplexed at his change in behaviour all of a sudden; what has happened to the old Malfoy? The one that constantly teased her about her freckles, her red tangled curls, her bossiness, and her being a stick-in-the-mud? Alas, maybe she can give him a chance to redeem himself.

"Why are you suddenly being…rather nice to me?" she hesitantly questions.

Suddenly, horrible laughter and shouts taint the air. It's a cruel group of raucous third year Slytherins wandering around in the same corridor as them.

"Malfoy, what are you doing out here with _filth _like her?" one of them jeers at the sight of them alone.

"Oh shut it, Zabini. She's just Rose. That's all that matters, not her family name," he speaks, his confidence infiltrating the enmity surrounding them.

They huff and walk away with Goyle muttering, "Sentimentality from a Slytherin. How despicable coming from a Malfoy. But she still comes from a family of blood traitors and Mudbloods."

And Rose and Scorpius are left alone once again.

She mutters, "Thank you," and gives way to a tiny smile, causing him to smile back.

**iv.**

**february 14, 2021**

The sun's early rays filter through the tinted windows of the Great Hall. It is morning, and everyone's eating breakfast. Suddenly, screeches of owls fill the air as they swoop down upon the tables to deliver letters and such.

_It's Valentine's Day._

She knows it's hopeless and entirely stupid to wish for such a thing, but she can't help but hope that she'll receive roses or a card from a secret admirer. The girls at the Hufflepuff table, which is by the Ravenclaw table, are squealing and pointing nail-polished fingers at certain phrases on cards they obtained along with copious bouquets of various flowers, annoying her yet filling her with wistfulness.

All of her other girl cousins are receiving gifts also, leaving Rose to be the only one to not be appreciated onto the most romantic day of the year. Hell, even _Lily_, who is only a second year, has gotten a lily, sappily given for the sake of her name. Sighing at her luck, or rather, lack thereof, she reaches for the last piece of toast and spreads strawberry jam on it.

Her eyes betray her and steal away to the Slytherin table. They find Scorpius, who is flocked by admirers, as usual. She snickers at the uncomfortable light in his eyes that he manages to cover up with his easy, friendly grin as he talks to the girls fawning over him. Serves him right for being so damn good looking.

She gasps. Did she really just think that?

Oh, the world really must be coming to an end. But, she reckons that she knew that this was going to happen. After all, how could a girl stay friends with a boy for so long and not fall for said boy?

…

Later that day, she's rummaging through her book bag and finds a beautiful rose and a note that reads, "A rose for a beautiful Rose. Happy Valentine's Day, Rose."

**v.**

**march 30, 2019**

She's finally thirteen, a teenager at last. She feels like she's floating on clouds. Nothing's going to burst her bubble, not even the horrid Scorpius Malfoy.

Strolling into the Great Hall, which is deathly quiet, she's taken by surprise when her cousins suddenly chime, "Happy Birthday, Rose!"

Fireworks, unmistakably products from her Uncle Fred's joke shop, explode and bright, vibrant colours infiltrate her vision, and everyone breaks out into cheers at the excellent display of fireworks. After a few minutes, everything returns back to normal, and the usual buzz of animated conversations and clatter of silverware upon platters resume. It's a Saturday, so after they finish consuming breakfast, they rush to the Gryffindor common room—since most of her cousins are Gryffindors—to open her presents.

A lucid voice suddenly speaks.

"Weasley, thirteen at last. What did you get for your birthday? Hand-me-down robes? Nothing to improve your unfortunate appearance I presume," Malfoy drawls, enjoying himself.

Rose angrily grits her teeth and is about to defend herself when her ever-so-protective cousin James whips out his wand and uses the Leg-Locker Curse on him, which he barely dodges. She blocks an incoming jinx from Malfoy and glares at her cousin for being so impulsive and irrational. Battles are better won using intellect and wit, not unneeded duels.

"Malfoy, why don't you find something to do other than bothering me like studying for the upcoming Charms exam? You haven't quite mastered Summoning charms, have you?" she says smoothly, smirking at the memory of yesterday's lessons with the Slytherins.

He reddens at recollecting his failure to summon a teacup the previous day. It was most embarrassing to be shown up by Rose, who executed it perfectly, of course, on her first try.

"Oh shut it, Weasley. Lessons aren't the only thing that matter in life. Your snootiness and bossiness aren't going to get you anywhere in life," he manages with narrowed eyes.

Unable to withstand the urge anymore, she takes out her wand and is about to hex him when her older cousin Roxanne speaks up.

"He's not worth it. Come on now, Rose. Let's go," she utters softly, dragging her away by the arm.

She's wrong for once in her life; her bubble has been popped by the one and only infamous Scorpius Malfoy. Again.

**vi.**

**october 27, 2023**

She checks the corridor for any loitering students, and there are none. Rose lets out a relieved sigh at not finding another couple. Suddenly, she hears an elongated groan from her left and notices that Scor's face is scrunched up in disgust at probably discovering another young couple snogging each other like there's no tomorrow. She wrinkles her nose in obvious distaste and quickly dashes over to where he is and noisily exhales. It's her own_ brother_ with his newest girlfriend.

"HUGO! Detention at eight o'clock on Saturday night. And your girlfriend too. No excuses. Now get to bed before I start reprimanding you like I should," she screeches, furious that it's _her brother _they caught.

He shoots her a look of irritation and resentment as he stalks off with his girlfriend in tow.

She shakes her head and looks at Scorpius. His prominent nose, his high cheekbones, his pointed chin, his white-blonde strands of hair, his intriguing eyes…he resembles a Greek god with his perfectly chiselled features. He's the picture of perfection unlike her, little Rose Weasley trying to live up to her parents' expectation. She loathes her redred_red _hair and the countless freckles lightly smattering her nose and cheeks. The only acceptable aspect of her appearance is her blue eyes. Rose thinks it entirely too unfair that he's so beautiful, and she's just plain Rose. And he's completely oblivious to it all—_he never notices her observing him as he feverishly studies for his exams to beat her just once_.

(But, somehow, she still manages to beat him on essays and exams.)

They head back to the Head's dormitories in awkward silence, mulling over the fact that they have given many detentions to the fervent couples—and just now, _her ruddy brother_—snogging in broom cupboards. He hurriedly mumbles the password and the portrait of raucous company of knights drinking firewhisky swings open. He motions for her to go in first and she feels her face redden (oh, why does she blush so easily?) at his being such a gentleman. The portrait swings shut, and suddenly he pushes her against the wall. Her blue eyes widen at the sudden, unceremonious action and she feels something flutter on the inside of her when he bridges the unwanted gap between their bodies.

His lips are on hers, and it's glorious. It's _surreal_. Her lips tingle and burn from his warm, intoxicating touches, and she moans when he begins to trail hot kisses down her neck to her collarbone. She weaves her fingers through his softsoft_soft _white-blonde hair and smiles against his lips.

She's been waiting for this moment since about _forever_.

**vi.**

**may 8, 2020**

They're taking a break from studying for upcoming Third Year Exams. She's thoroughly exhausted from the ceaseless analysing and extensive reading with Scorpius, who's equally tired. Sitting under the old sycamore tree against its knotted, aging trunk and throwing stones into the Black Lake with Scorpius, she can't really think of another place she'd rather be right now. And she still can't believe that they once loathed the very sight of each other.

"Hey Scorpius? I still don't exactly have the details on why you started being cordial to me," she timidly begins.

"Well, er, are you sure you have time to listen? We really need to get back to reviewing the characteristics of a boggart soon," he uncertainly replies.

"_Well, _this is more important as of now. So do tell," she vocalises with eagerness pervading her voice.

"Ha! Rose Weasley finally admits that I'm more important than her studies. How very interesting. I feel accomplished in life. OW," he declares, then shouting in pain from Rose's punch.

He steadies his voice as he begins to unravel the reason for his sudden, but quite nice, change in nature. "Well, y'see, my father used to bitterly complain about how your family used to be…not very wealthy and how your family is now basically one of the wealthiest and most revered families. I, being the narrow-minded child I was, listened to my father and had the same mentalities. But when we met on the train that day for the first time, I saw you were different from the rest of them. You were sort of friendly when we first met unlike Potter. I didn't want to believe my father was lying because, y'know, I trusted everything he said. But then last summer, I think he might have talked quite a bit with Mr. Potter because he suddenly changed his views a little regarding your family. Nothing much has changed between them of course, but my father told me that I shouldn't hate you just because he hated your father. He still hates your father, mind you. But I think he holds a grudging respect for your father and uncle in his heart because they saved his sorry arse during the Second Wizarding War—I could tell when he told me. I realised that my taunting was rather immature, and oh! I've never properly apologised for my stupidity and reckless words over the years. I'm sorry, Rose," he explains, ending with an awkward apology.

"Apology accepted, Scorpius," she breathily says, astonished at all he has revealed in the past five minutes.

She's rather admiring of the way he respects his father. And she thinks it rather endearing that he looks up to his father so much even if he's wrong.

"Let's go, Rose," he abruptly speaks, shattering her thoughts.

He lends her a hand, pulling her up, and they trudge uphill back to the Library.

**vii.**

**september 1, 2017**

She clambers onboard with her cousin Al and they begin to search for an empty, available compartment to sit in. Peering into the next compartment, she perceives a lone boy with shocking white-blond hair staring at the tearful parents outside waving to their children. Curiosity fills her mind as she silently observes the boy; it's the boy that her father told her to beat. He seems deprived of the love that her family showers her with. She opens her mouth to speak when Al barges in yelling something about not going out of the compartment because his brother placed dungbombs and other WWW products in the corridor.

Rose glares at her tactless cousin for interrupting the serenity of the compartment. By now, the boy has a wry smile etched onto his face with amusement glittering in his stormy grey eyes.

She steps forward and outstretches arm for him to shake, "Hi, I'm Rose Weasley. And this is my idiotic cousin Al Potter."

He raises his eyebrows at the address and doesn't shake her hand, "My father warned me about your lot. Said all you Weasleys have red hair and freckles. I see he wasn't lying this time."

She's about to retort as Al indignantly yells, "I wouldn't say that if I were you, _Malfoy_. I've got hordes of family members that could take you down in a second."

"Too chicken to confront me by yourself, Potter?" he replies with a smirk to complement his rudeness.

"Stop bickering, boys. Al, let's go," she interrupts in attempt to halt the disagreement.

Right when she was about to step out of the compartment, he calls out, "Hey Weasley. The name's Scorpius."

**viii.**

**december 24, 2021**

Her mum and dad have decided to take a last minute trap to France, leaving her brother and her no choice but to stay at Hogwarts for winter holidays. Trekking to the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, she plops herself down and begins eating with a sullen face. She's been looking forward to visiting with Victoire and Teddy, but her excitement has been dashed by her parents' poor planning. Her mum was supposed to be phenomenal at planning and keeping organized, but apparently she's _not_.

Taking her last bite of bacon, she downs a glass of pumpkin juice before leaving with no idea for what to do for the day. Heading towards the Ravenclaw tower, she passes by Scorpius, who astoundingly is not surrounded by admiring girls today. And suddenly she's rooted to the spot.

Slowly lifting her head up to the ceiling, she peers up and takes note of the unavoidable sprig of mistletoe dangling above the pair of them. She inwardly groans and steals a glance at Scorpius to gauge his reaction to their situation.

His eyes are wide (beautiful) while they take in the predicament they've gotten themselves into. Closing the distance between their bodies after what seemed hours, he gently presses his lips to hers. And she, she's still standing stock-still. When she begins to move her lips in sync with his, he hastily pulls away.

"Please forget this ever happened. It doesn't mean anything 'cause…'cause we're just friends. Only friends, yes?" he speaks, walking away from her.

And he doesn't see the broken light in her eyes, the unshed tears in her eyes. He doesn't hear the sound of her heart breaking at the realisation of his (harsh) words.

She spends her Christmas with a broken heart as he gallivants about the castle snogging girls in broom cupboards. How could she have thought he'd ever love someone like her?

**ix.**

**june 3, 2024**

Lying in his strong arms, she feels loved, protected, like she could stay there forever. They've just finished their last exams, and they're celebrating yet mourning their last days at their second home. He's murmuring sweet things in her ear, tickling her neck with his breath. She giggles at what he just said about their run-ins when they were younger. Oh the irony—look at them now.

"Oh Rose, I keep forgetting to tell you. Do you remember that rose and card you got fourth year on Valentine's Day?" he inquires.

She nods her head, propelling him to continue, "Well, if you haven't already figured it out, it was from me."

She laughs at his embarrassment caused by his admittance. "Oh, I didn't know you were a romantic at fifteen! Oh yes, I figured it out a while ago."

He mutters, "Oh shut it. I wasn't a romantic."

And then, there is a silence that is somehow incredibly loud from the vortex of unspoken thoughts spinning around in their minds.

"Scor, d'you think we'll last after Hogwarts is all over?" she softly asks with a tremor in her voice.

"Of course we will. You're the first and only girl I've ever loved," he replies, his voice infused with undoubted fervour.

She grins and allows herself to bask in his promises of forever. She's always wanted a happy ending.

**x.**

**october 27, 2029**

A torrent of tears floods her face, carving inescapable tracks onto her porcelain face. She stares at the photograph of him and her, so happy, so _in love_. It was their last day at Hogwarts; they'd just graduated. His arms were wrapped around her waist, and her crimson curls whipped her face as he kissed his cheek. Lost in the whirlwind of thoughts, she gently touches the photograph, wiping away the dust that has collected on it. She thought they'd last, she thought that they might have married one day despite the illogicality of it all. But no, it never lasts. Love never lasts.

Today would have been the sixth-year anniversary of their relationship.

It began crumbling, plunging, tumbling when his words seemed more strained and more half-hearted than they used to be. She had wondered where the passion went, the passion that they had. Then the arguments, oh the arguments stretched all they had left to a fine line, and they were barely hanging onto threads.

It was over; it was over when she found him talking to _her_. Her younger cousin, Dominique. Their conversation was animated and had meaning to it unlike Rose and Scorpius's heated discussions over the littlest of things. It was innocent, but she could tell. She could tell that it could perhaps be the beginning of something, something they just never had even though she had considered Scorpius and her to be very much in love. She remembers watching a light pink hue colour his cheeks when he hugged her goodnight. She remembers seeing nothing but red cloud her vision and then succumbing to tears.

She never used to cry so easily. The old Rose Weasley never cried much really.

And so she ended it before he could because they never had that spark that Dominique and he have. She regrets it ever-so-slightly, but it's all for the best. Or so she tells herself.

**xi.**

**april 16, 2030**

They're getting married. They're getting fucking _married_. She stares at the wedding invitation with its fancy swirls and curls spelling out the words, "We would like to invite you to the wedding of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and Dominique Gabrielle Weasley." Wobbly tears threaten to spill out of her sky-blue eyes until she can't read a single bloody word any longer. Rose rips up the invitation in her uncontrollable fury. How _dare _they send an invitation to her!

She collapses onto her knees, her shoulders sagging with grief. Her heart has never properly healed after they separated; the seams were never properly sewn back together because a heart broken from love can never be fixed. Now it lies completely in shards, shards of glass. She's always been as fragile as glass. It's never taken much to break her though she's never shown weakness. No, Weasleys mustn't show any weakness. Not in times like these.

But she can't help it, oh she can't help it. She can't bloody help that she'll never love again. She feels like a drama queen right now because she's making her own pain even worse.

But she can't help it.

His touches still linger on her skin. They have been tattooed onto her skin, still haunting her. She can still taste his hot kisses on her skin (down her neck to her collarbone), still haunting her. She can still feel his arms wrapped protectively around her, still haunting her.

She can still see the ghost of his smile in her mind, still haunting her.

She can still feel, hear, see, smell, and taste him all around her. Memories of him still haunt her mind after all this time.

He's everywhere. He's still everywhere all around her.

-:-

_don't forget me, i beg_

_i remember you said_

_sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead_

-:-

_Fin._

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><p><strong>AN: Well, I finished this at 3:30 AM early Christmas morning, nonetheless. I hope there weren't too many grammatical errors. And I hope it made _some _sense because this is my first attempt at a non-linear fic. **

**Hope you enjoyed this! xx**

**Please don't favourite without reviewing! =)**

**-Nic.**


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